All Chapters of SCORED HER HEART, NOT THE PUCK.: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

YOUNG MADISON'S POV:The bus arrived like a burst of sunlight against the dull, gray orphanage walls. Children poured out, laughing, talking, filling the air with an energy I wasn’t used to. They wore bright clothes, their sneakers neat, their faces glowing with a kind of ease I didn’t know. I sat in my usual corner, half-hidden in the shadows, watching as my peers welcomed them with wide grins and eager hands.No one looked my way. They never did. I wasn’t the best-looking child—too small, too quiet, too forgettable. While the other kids got pulled into games and laughter, I simply existed, slipping between their moments like a ghost. And I was fine with that.Or at least, I thought I was.Then, I saw him.He wasn’t like the others. While they basked in attention, he gave it. Every child mattered to him, every voice was heard. He had an easy laugh, one that made people lean in, wanting to hear more. His chestnut hair was neatly buzzed, his skin smooth, glowing beneath the afternoon s

MADISON'S POV:"Can't you help me, Mr. Brooks?" I begged with desperation. Sliding down the door, my back pressed against the cold wood, knees curling up to my chest. The phone was warm in my grip, but nothing about this conversation brought comfort. "Miss Wallace, you left an important detail such as this out. This could have cost me something great because I was blindly representing you." I squeezed my eyes shut, tilting my head back against the door. He sounded exhausted, exasperated as if I had just wasted his time. "I didn't think it mattered. Besides, it's a false allegation. I never—" "It doesn't matter, Madison. My best advice is for you to reach out to the Wallace. I don’t know why you think you can do this on your own. You barely make enough to cover my legal fees, let alone petitioning and reapplying over and over. The Wallace are powerful. Go beg them, and they might make life easier for you." I scoffed. Beg them? "Mr. Brooks, just be the lawyer I paid you to b

THANE'S POV:The world outside was screaming my name.Not literally. But the way the crowd roared, the way camera flashes went off like fireflies on adrenaline—it might as well have been. The arena was packed shoulder to shoulder, each person holding their breath for history to happen. My history.And I was about to make damn sure it did.I stood in the far corner of my private prep room, still pacing, my blades not yet laced but my heart already sprinting. I ran a gloved hand through my slightly tousled hair, still damp from the pre-game warm-up. My jersey clung to my chest. The overhead light buzzed, and the faint murmur of the pre-game broadcast filled every corner of the place. Outside the tall window, the stadium looked like it had come alive. Seats pulsed with excitement. I tilted my chin and moved closer toward the window. The thick glass buzzed faintly, trying to muffle the roars from outside, but it barely contained it. Flags waved like desperate hands. Fans wore my jersey,

THANE’S POV:I couldn’t even work my jaw where the punch had landed. My neck throbbed. My spine screamed. And all I could do was lie there, blinking up at the ceiling like some defenseless invalid."Has my father lost his damn mind?"My mother lurched forward from the foot of the bed. “Harold—!”“Don’t,” my father snapped without looking at her. He raised a hand not to strike, but to stop. She froze mid-step.My father's gaze shifted to my brother, his eyes blazing with a warning: "don't even think about defending him." The unspoken message was clear, and my brother's eyes dropped in understanding. Then, my father's eyes turned back to me, filled with deep disappointment.Vaughan stood near the window, arms crossed. He looked at me with pity.Harold Slade, my father was a man you didn’t question. Towering. Square shoulders. Hair peppered with grey but always neatly combed. His presence alone filled any room and shrank it around you. Every inch of him was polished, composed, powerful.

MADISON'S POV:My world screeched to a halt.Nobody was dying. Instead, someone was having the time of their life.Platinum hair cascaded down bare shoulders as a woman moved rhythmically atop a figure I couldn't see. The sounds that had sent me racing down the hall—those desperate, choking gasps—weren't distress at all. They were something else entirely, something that made heat crawl up my neck like fire.Sheets twisted around their lower halves, but what wasn't concealed painted a picture that burned itself into my retinas. The raw intensity, the primal sounds, the way her body arched and trembled—I couldn't move. Couldn't even breathe.The woman's cry peaked, her entire frame going rigid before she collapsed forward like a marionette with cut strings. Strong hands shoved her away without ceremony, rolling to claim the sheets with the casual cruelty of someone discarding trash.My heart stopped beating.That profile. Those handsome features that I could recognize anywhere.Thane S